The marble halls of Olympus gleamed as if bathed in eternal dawn. Clouds curled at the edges of the palace steps, golden sunlight reflecting from polished columns so tall they seemed to scrape the heavens. But beneath the brilliance, unease stirred. The gods had gathered, their seats arranged in a perfect circle around the Hearth of Hestia. Flames danced in the brazier, whispering shadows on their immortal faces.
Zeus sat upon the highest throne, his expression thunderous. He was not a god who tolerated silence for long, yet even he was content to let it stretch now. All around him, eyes flickered uneasily — eyes that had seen war, betrayal, and the return of terrors they thought buried.
Finally, it was Hera who broke the silence, her voice cold and deliberate.
"So… Poseidon has returned."
At that, the chamber rippled with murmurs. Athena, her gray eyes sharp as blades, leaned forward.
